"There's Sharples," cried Quilt. A woman’s shoe lay on the threadbare carpeting. ‘You, soldiers,’ she yelled. "You depart for Lancashire to-morrow. However, not a moment is to be lost. By this time, he had apparently accomplished all he desired; for moving the bottle out of Jack's reach, he appropriated it entirely to his own use, leaving the devoted lad to the care of the females.
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